


Crisis Badge

by DeathPalmNut (orphan_account)



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Kid Fic, M/M, Night Vale Scouts, Slice of Life, Young Cecil, Young Earl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 13:10:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3382718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/DeathPalmNut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s something dark and unseen in Mission Grove Park, and it’s even less tangible than the infamous 'Shape'.<br/>Earl’s a good Scout, but even he is not prescient enough to ward off this danger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crisis Badge

**Scout Law:**

“A Scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, 

courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty,

brave, clean, and reverent.”

 

Earl could hear howling as he passed the Palmer house. Some amount of wailing wasn’t unusual, but the timber of the shrieks this afternoon made him shrug deeper into his backpack straps and shiver. He could see Cecil’s bike on its side on the porch, front wheel still spinning, and Earl wondered if he’d just come back from intern duty and been snatched off it…

A cool tap over his eyebrow made him look up, hunting the heavy gray twilight sky for more droplets. It was just a tease though, a warning of what the clouds might unleash later. He frowned with another glance towards his friend’s house, before hurrying on. It was getting dark and he still needed to set up camp.

.............<>..............

The rain held off until just before nightfall, but by then, Earl had his tent pitched in Mission Grove Park, rain tarp hung and lantern lit, with plenty of time to escape to the dry inside and arrange the rest of his provisions as the downpour hit its stride.  This was good practice for all weather camping, even if he wasn’t that far from his house.  And he’d done well; everything was drum tight and dry, he observed with a swell of pride. Stretching out on his sleeping bag and peering through the front flap to watch the lightning flashes strobe among the black trees, he felt a spooky thrill to be alone in the dark like this. It felt far from home. 

He began to try to pick out shapes among the foliage shadows, imagining them into monsters for fun. When he got his Spear Fishing and Citizen’s Arrest badges, he knew he’d have better ideas about how to deal with dark creatures, but right now he thought of all the different farm implements in old man Peter’s barn he could use to sword fight or stab any snarly hulking thing that came his way.

A big lightning burst lit the park and Earl startled up onto his knees. There was a shape near the entrance of the park.  No, not _The_ Shape. Earl had a spotless record for ignoring and forgetting and never speaking about _that_. This shape was definitely human.

He snatched up his flashlight and cast the beam over where the outline had been, finding a hunched silhouette turning its head this way and that in the rain. Earl frowned and raised a hand.

The visitor made a small wave back.

“Get over here. C’mon!” Earl shouted over the drone of the downpour.

He backed into the tent, scraping his dry bedding and things behind him as a dripping, shivering Cecil poked his head inside.

“Hey.”

“Earl?”

“Yeah. C’mon. Get out of the rain. Jeez.”

“T-t-thanks.”

As Cecil came into the lantern light, Earl bit back the questions he wanted to ask. The other boy was drenched, without even a jacket or shoes. As much as Earl liked Cecil and was glad to see him, he didn’t like to see him like this…  “You’re all wet. Hang on,” The scout dug out some of his extra clothes and found a small towel. “Here. You get in a fight with your mom?”

The other boy nodded, head bowed over fumbling out of the wet things. “She doesn’t like me going to the station.”

Earl turned away, trying to let Cecil maintain at least a scrap of modesty as he worked to swap pants. Cecil was thin, but even so, damp clothes were a pain to peel off. Earl busied himself opening a pack and finding a thermos and his food store. “Why not?”

“She always wants to know exactly what I do there, and… And I can’t always tell her.”

“Like you do secret things?”

Cecil bit his lip and shook his head. “Like I really can’t tell her. I don’t always remember.” Cecil swallowed, “I feel like it’s getting harder to remember other things too…”

The redhead met Cecil’s eyes for a moment, and he gave a little nod before he offered him a small smile. “Stay here tonight.” He poured some of the thermos contents into a tin cup and handed it to Cecil. “You can work on your All-Weather Camp badge too.”

Watching Cecil bow his head over the cup and drink the hot chocolate, Earl waited. The other boy drained the warm liquid and swallowed hard before looking up at him with a shy, but brightening face. “Okay. Uh yeah, thanks.”

“Cool.” Earl grinned.

.............<>..............

“Librarian’s don’t venture out of city centers or human developments.  There’s no books in the sand wastes.” The scout offered as a clue.

“Right.” Cecil scrunched up his face and considered the illustration in the field guide book again. He cocked his head at the drawing of animal tracks, and tugged a corner of the sleeping bag closer around his shoulder.

Earl was slicing up a pear to go with some crackers he’d topped with peanut butter, all arranged on a spread bandana before him. Earlier he had to coax and assure the other boy it was totally fine for him to bundle up in the sleeping bag.

“It’s yours and I’m okay. I can use the blanket.”

Earl had given him a doubtful look. “Your lips are blue. Don’t be a baby. We can share it.”

Cecil did not want to be a baby. He huffed a laugh and climbed in, pulling the edges around him as he sat cross-legged.

Now they were quizzing each other on identifying tracks and plants from the Dreadnaught Scout Wildlife Guide.  Earl was pretty certain the blink of time between Cecil arriving home from the NVCR station and the beginning of Mrs. Palmer’s howls hadn’t included dinner, so he dug into his provisions, casually presenting the food as snacks for both of them.

Presently watching Cecil, Earl wasn’t even slightly hungry. He caught himself studying the thinner boy’s soft eyelashes lowered over the page just before he almost cut himself with his Swiss army knife.

Cecil’s gaze kept straying to the crackers. “Ug. I give up!” He groaned.

Laying down the pear slices, Earl tugged the bandana to the middle of the space between them, signaling that the buffet was open. He picked up a sliver of fruit and watched, pleased, as Cecil devoured  his first cracker and licked crumbs from his fingers. 

“Wait. Wait.” Cecil stopped waving his hands long enough to cram in another bite. “Is it a ball and claw foot Queen Anne chair?” His eyes were wide and hopeful.

“Yep.” Earl took a bite of the pear. “Individual antique tracks are the hardest to identify.”

“How did you get a Dreadnaught guide?” Cecil mumbled in awe around his third (or fourth) cracker.

Earl tried not to look too smug. “Library.”

“No!”

“Yep.”

“Does the Scoutmaster know?”

Earl bit his bottom lip to keep from grinning. (Humility wasn’t specifically in the Scout’s Law, but Earl didn’t want to be a braggart to Cecil, especially not tonight.) He unfolded his sash to show Cecil his new Advanced Reader patch.

“Wow.”

.............<>..............

“There’s a catacomb under the break room where all the other interns are interred.”

“In the station?” Earl frowned.

Cecil nodded.

This didn’t sound right to Earl, but Cecil looked so solemn describing it, he didn’t comment further.  

It was late enough Earl had turned out the lantern to preserve the remaining oil and the two of them had wrestled into the sleeping bag side by side. Rolling up his jacket for a pillow, Earl pulled the blanket over the bag and gave the regular pillow to Cecil with such a matter-of-fact air, the other didn’t argue. He fished out a different book and flicked on the flashlight. “Do you like ghost stories?”

Cecil perked up. “Yeah.”

“Cool.” Earl hid his smile as best he could, glad it was dim in the tent. He liked how Cecil looked, snug and dry in _his_ flannel shirt, head resting in _his_ pillow. The shared warmth down in the cramped bag and beside him was all Cecil: his skinny legs, crumb-flecked cheek, and sleepy breath of hot chocolate and peanut butter that Earl had fed him. There was so much more Earl thought he could share with Cecil, but not tonight. Maybe on a happier night when no one had just fought with a parent or was embarrassed and hungry and hiding out.

Lifting the flashlight beam, Earl began to read aloud “The Open Window”.

Beside him Cecil sighed, and bumped his forehead against Earl’s shoulder, and the scout grinned, recognizing the thank you.

**Author's Note:**

> Cecil's lucky to have had a friend like Earl.  
> Thanks for reading and comments are welcome.


End file.
